


She

by BrownEyesandLongSighs



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cutting, Dark, Depression, Essay, Personal Experiences, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, non-fiction, original - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 08:57:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3890290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrownEyesandLongSighs/pseuds/BrownEyesandLongSighs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the blink of an eye, her world is changed. And no one's there to hold her and tell her it's all right. The story of a girl trying to survive in her lonely world, learning what true darkness can do to the soul. </p><p>Trailer: http://vid288.photobucket.com/albums/ll191/Skylar11012/She%20by%20Paige%20Vogel%20A%20Wattpad%20Book%20Trailer_zpssddfcozx.mp4</p>
            </blockquote>





	She

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mischiefmanaged0116](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischiefmanaged0116/gifts).



_Story is based on my experiences. Warning: Extremely dark._

She's laughing. Smiling. Her eyes are aglow with a happiness that only can be replicated a few other scarce intervals in one's lifetime. They're concentrated on a book, of course, because she rarely does anything else in her free time. Her mom is content with this hobby; after all, in today's society, she knows there are worse ones. Either way, the girl couldn't stop reading if she tried. It was her escape. Her freedom.

It's a few years later, now. Like any teenager, she spends most of her time talking with friends on her newly acquired smartphone. Country music plays from a beat up Disney Princess music box, and down the hall her mom is watching the day's soap operas. A boy, her brother, organizes trading cards into specific piles she'll never understand. She smiles at a friend's virtual joke. It doesn't spread to her eyes.

Fall, winter, and spring pass. Driving classes fly by. Another birthday comes and goes, and suddenly, she is fifteen years old and is watching fireworks with some friends. They all talk amongst themselves about _Little House on the Prairie_ and summer theatre. She doesn't join in the conversation; only lies down on a ragged blanket and watches the sky with a small smile on her face, eyes dreamy, almost as if she's somewhere else. Beautiful reds and greens light her face.

A few weeks later is the first breakdown. It's late at night, and she just bid a friend farewell via text. Next school year's classes circle her head, taunting her, frightening her with their complex problems. Her breath quickens before she realizes it, from normal to gasps to shaky, panicky wheezes. Her vision goes cloudy with salty tears that soon run down her cheeks. It's gone only minutes later, but it leaves her wide awake and terrified in the dead of night. As she pets her cat, her hands are trembling; so is her sanity.

There are more panic attacks that follow in the succeeding few weeks. They come quickly and leave without a trace, yet they never actually disappear. She can feel them just below the surface of her sub consciousness, trying to break free of the opaque black darkness her mind is starting to become. Her close friend begins to fuss over her. _Maybe you should tell your mom. Maybe you should go to the doctor._ The girl only reassures her practical sister with an offhand _I'm fine._ She doesn't mention how alone she feels in this too big world. Almost always the attacks come at night when everyone else is gone; almost always she cries herself to sleep when exhaustion grips her tightly in its grasp.

She's gone. It's all the girl can think of a few nights later, just after the sun sets. She's gone. Her best friend, her _sister_ , left without a goodbye, never to return again. She's gone. How was she supposed to go on without anyone to talk to, without anyone to trust? She's gone. She's gone. She's gone. The truth hurts more than anything she's ever felt before. For the first time in her life, the girl realizes true heartbreak is more murderous, more _deadly_ ,than cancer or heart disease or anything else she can think of. No; heartbreak leads to something no one can comprehend. It leads to the abolishment of the will to live.

Later that evening, her reflection wearily, almost dreamily, smiles into a blade of a child's safety scissors, the best she can do without her family asking questions. Cutting was something she promised her friend she'd never do, but, then again, her friend promised to never leave and she's absent now. Each abrasion on her wrist leaves a teardrop shape that immediately draws blood, draws a physical pain to drown out the emotional. It's sweet relief, and her eyes close for one glorious minute. A minute where friends are forgotten, stress is nonexistent, and she can just _breathe_.

This must be what death feels like, she thinks. A place where everything troubling leaves, where every hurtful, judgmental, insensitive word just disappears and floats away in a place far away from her, never to bother the girl again. The smile grew lethargic and salty tears burned her wounds, not that she really minded anyway. Almost wearily she weighed the scissors in her hands. Her chocolate brown irises drifted away into that less cruel world, contemplating how liberating it would feel to live there for eternity.

Then, her eyes sharpened.

The scissors bounced off the carpeted floor, leaving a crimson trail in its emotional wake.


End file.
